Cobblers are strange they make shoes and all that
Not hats or pyjamas or gloves for a cat.
Not trousers or cardies or scarves for your neck
But shoes to put feet in so socks won't be wet.

I like many shoe-guys though one as a person
Did never appeal - call it cobbler aversion.
His ways and his methods would make a man cringe:
He would rip out the uppers without a syringe.

To measure a shoe size with tapes or a ruler
Is just not the style for this wild leather-tooler.
He says that his DT's make measurements jerky
So he puts your warm foot in a butter-ball turkey.

His reason for this is as follows, please listen:
'The flesh gives good mould and in butter kid glistens.'
Oh yes, little goats go to make up his shoes
From Billies and Nannies with nothing to lose.

A little kid slave trade is just for this cobbler
With aid from big Bernard - that turkey greed-gobbler.
No morals or conscience are there for to grieve him
Just nurses and men with a coat with long sleeves in.

But yes, he's a goner - no more will he trouble
The billies whose leather is too young for stubble.
But now I'm quite missing his cobbled constructions -
I've leather and turkeys but not the instructions.

Naughty little Nellie was a figure of complaint
Cos on every city corner she was selling body paint
And down the street was Malcom selling chocolate for a bod
And beside him was a missionary pawning bits for God

Well as fate would have it two of them bought up a kind of shop
Which was famed for selling rubber toys and dripping wax quite hot
Onto bodies that were tethered but quite willing it would seem
Who preferred a something harder unlike Horlicks or ice cream

All the while the missionary kept his eye upon these two
Till his vision drooped and godly ardour rose a notch or few
He'd been hanging round the magazines and blow up plastic friends
And been seduced by saucy Satan and his minion trends

So walk past any corner of a city you may know
There's a Nellie and a Malcolm with a fellow close in tow
He's been known to hold the camera or to maybe take some notes
But often simply hangs around to over-comfort goats.

Rim-Jim Jameson had a little dog
He kept it on a magic lead and showed it to his God
His God said, "Rimmy-Jimmy does your dog do any tricks?"
And Jimmy said, "My Lord it dances and can sing a bit."

The dog then stepped before the Lord and cleared it's tiny throat
It shuffled back and forth a bit and scratched it's hairy coat
Then sitting down with poise and grace It opened up it's jaws
And sang a little ditty that was met with light applause.

The Lord said, "Jim, I like you and I usually like dogs"
But this one's a blasphemer and I hear he chews your clogs
His song was very tuneful and the rhythm wasn't bad
But he said I was a nonsense - my existence cruel and bad."

Rimmy-Jim stood still a while and pondered what was said,
The dog looked on and scratched again then spoke with tilted head
"Rim-Jim," he said, "I'll sing to him, but nothing else I'll do"
"For he is bad and causes war and death and famine too."

Rimmy-Jim blushed scarlet-red and motioned to the Lord,
"I'm not with him," he murmured as he pointed at the dawg
The Lord said, "Dog blasphemer, I have had enough of you!"
And smote him down with thunderbolts, some hail and drizzle too.

His fur quite singed and dying now, the dog coughed up his last,
"I'll get you, God, in my next life" and with that doggy passed.
Rim-Jim looked down at doggy's corpse and wondered what to say
Then God said, "Jim go get a cat and try another day."

Reet Petite Pete was light on his feet
And he danced seven dignitaries into the street
Where he fed them on honey and kept them all sweet
And plied them his wares which were wrapped and discrete

He charmed several ladies to give him much money
They laughed as they gave - he was dandy and funny
He slipped them a mickey which left their minds runny
And boiled up their pets - several cats and a bunny

He traveled the country and parts there-about's
And he danced round the truth and he planted some doubts
Leaving people bemused amid whispers and shouts
With his devious ways and his poses and pouts

Then a lawman called Daryl appeared on the scene
He was rootin' and tootin' and dressed like a queen
But his instincts were honed and his senses were keen
And he vowed to stop Pete and his deeds so obscene

So he set up a trap and he lay down to wait
He was guised as a lady arranging a date
Until right on the mark petite Pete bit the bait
And was caught by the peelers and sealed was his fate

So Daryl was knighted, his name was in lights
The public adored him - the tranny in tights
While safe in a cell petite Pete set his sights
On the young warden's daughter who eased his night plights.